


we've been lonely too long

by dogeared



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blanket Forts, Camping, Episode: s03e12 Lunar Ellipse, Forests, Gen, Hale Family Feels, Hale Pack, Post 3a, Road Trips, Siblings, woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:06:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogeared/pseuds/dogeared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's coming back to him, bit by bit, how to be a big brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we've been lonely too long

Their second day on the road, sitting across from Cora in a diner where he's glad to feel anonymous, if not invisible, Derek's suddenly, ravenously hungry. She must sense it, must see it on his face, because she pauses, sucking a smudge of sugar and berry off the side of her thumb, and slides her plate of pie across the table toward him. Her fingernails are polished a dark purple, like a bruise on human skin. She'd painted them in the car that morning, humming along to whatever was on the radio, and he'd tried hard to drive straight and smooth until she was done.

Without really meaning to, he eats what's left of her pie in three big bites. Cora waves her hand in the air to get their waitress's attention and orders another slice, and a glass of milk, and Derek tries to savor it. Every burst of sweet and tart jolts him, like he's coming back to awareness, like he's been unconscious for a long time without even knowing it. Cora grins at him until he's finished and then tells him his lips are stained blue. Derek scowls at her, but it just makes her throw her head back and laugh, loud and happy, her heart thumping steady— _alive, alive_ —and he has to wait until they settle back in the car again to check whether she's telling the truth.

* * *

Derek drives back roads, wooded lush and green, windows open for the breeze, and the quiet between them feels easier, companionable, like when they were kids. Laura was the go-getter, the attention-hog, tall and proud and sure of herself, sure of their mother's respect, happy to boss her siblings and cousins around as if they didn't all already have parents and an alpha. Derek liked to find a little nook, inside or out, where he could escape into a book without anyone (Laura) bothering him. But he didn't mind if Cora was there, too, because she was usually occupying herself building elaborate forts under tables or between saplings. She asked his opinion but always refused his help, which was just the right combination of being needed and being left alone, as far as Derek was concerned, and sometimes, she'd invite him to read in her fort when she was done with it.

There are hardly any other cars on the road, and he finds himself slowing down, tuning out the whoosh of air and tires so that he can hear the buzz of insects, thick in the overgrown grass on the shoulder. Finally, he pulls over and turns the car off altogether. It doesn't smell like anyone else's territory, and Derek can't feel the push or pull of magic, drawing them in or keeping them out. It's just forest, deep and dense, and all of his instincts are urging him to get out into it and _run_.

He glances over at Cora, and she's lit up, poised and ready to pounce like she's been reading his mind all along, and Derek takes a second to be grateful that after everything, they can still manage to be on the same wavelength—and then she flashes her fangs at him, and he's slipping out of his jacket and tossing it into the back; he's slamming the door and taking off through the trees and listening to her whoop behind him and give chase.

He runs fast, flickers of green and bark in his peripheral vision, until she finally catches him on the bank of a little stream, darts at him from the left when he thought she was still behind him and bowls him over. Cora throws her arms up in victory, and Derek laughs and pants in the damp grass, feels a twinge that might be a cracked rib healing itself, and then he has to throw his own arm up over his face because he's crying and he can't stop.

Cora's right there, by his side in an instant, looking stricken and reaching out. Derek gasps, "I'm okay, I'm okay," but he's helpless with it, tears streaming down his temples, breath coming fast and choppy, and he doesn't know whether it's because he let himself think about the days before, about Laura and the rest of their family and all the things he's lost, or because he can finally let go, but Cora hauls him up and then she's crying, too, sobbing wetly against his neck. She holds him tight, his baby sister, and Derek holds her back, and the stream rushes by undeterred, and Derek imagines it washing everything clean.

* * *

When he can pull himself together, they walk side by side back through the forest, dappled sunlight and shadows skating over their skin in the warm lull of afternoon. Derek hands over the keys and Cora drives, but she doesn't take them far—she finds someplace they can get good burgers and milkshakes, then backtracks to the highway, where they'd passed a discount sporting goods store called Big Al's.

She picks out two high-end sleeping bags, shiny and plush and expensive, but doesn't bother with a tent, and Derek's happy enough to surrender his credit card to Big Al if it means that they're not going to sleep in an unfamiliar motel.

They leave the car off the side of the road, camouflaged in the undergrowth, and Cora chooses a spot that borders meadow and trees, with an open view of the sky. Evening falls, and it's more comfortable than it should be, huddled together on the hard ground, Cora wrapped up in one of Derek's sweatshirts and smelling like both of them, like pack and family, like home. It's coming back to him, bit by bit, how to be a big brother. He can hear small warm mammals moving around in the night, can hear the predators that hunt them—an owl, a pair of fishers. Cora's tucked into his side, her face turned up to watch the sky shifting into deep blue, then black; the first smattering of bright stars; the waning moon; she talks for a while, and he listens.

**Author's Note:**

> You're like a mirror, reflecting me  
> Takes one to know one, so take it from me  
> You've been lonely  
> You've been lonely, too long  
> We've been lonely  
> We've been lonely, too long
> 
> —The Civil Wars, "Dust to Dust"


End file.
